


Hot Blood

by DeanOh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Dean and Cas are in Gryffindor, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, First Times, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Sex, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Multi, Sam's in Ravenclaw, Smut, but i really wanted to make Cas captain alright, i have no fucking idea how to write Quidditch, look i'm going to hell anyway so why not for this, quidditch i guess???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanOh/pseuds/DeanOh
Summary: Dean Winchester decides that today is the day. Today he's going to try-out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team, lead by the amazing Seeker Castiel Novak. And if Castiel Novak's eyes are a complete distraction, it's nobody's fucking fault but his.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonlite_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlite_Knight/gifts).



> I'M SO SORRY FOR BEING A MEDIOCRE WRITER, YOU DESERVE MUCH MORE AND SOMETHING WAY BETTER, but I'm enjoying this a lot. I decided to make two different chapters, just so I can write more of their actual relationship, instead of something fast paced, and with poor continuity! 
> 
> I hope you like this, and Happy Late Holidays! <3
> 
> p.s. the title comes from "Hot Blood by Kaleo"

 

_You can do this._

Deep breath. Shaking hands. A tight grip on his broom, and a small gathering of bystanders on the platforms, some only there to see Novak shout at people who're there for try-outs. 

_You're good with a broom. The height doesn't matter. You're going to be okay_ .

Fuck, he's hyperventilating, his palms sweating against his beater gloves. Dean breathes in the fresh autumn air, feeling the breeze coming from the north. He calculates how bad it's gonna be up there when the wind is creeping up his cloak, and light rain pebbling against his goggles. 

“Harvelle!” Novak shouts from the ground up, addressing the girl pitching the Quaffle for potential Chasers. “You're straining the guy, let him breathe for a second before you go again.”

Harvelle's answering throw almost hits the guy off his broom. Dean knows him from the Gryffindor common room, a third year with curly brown hair. The guy flies down, visibly white in the face, storming through the group still waiting for their try-out. 

The only students left are the Beaters, which is where Dean stands and tries not to throw up. 

Castiel Novak, the sixth year Gryffindor, turns around and crosses his arms. His abnormally blue eyes are strict enough for everyone to stop chattering. When Jo Harvelle joins him on the ground, he takes the Quaffle off her hands and tells her to go join the other team members getting rowdy on the side. Dean sees Sam watching from one of the platforms. Cold sweat goes down his back, his breathing becomes rapid, eyes can't seem to focus. He's been flying around back home, with Dad and Sam, but never this high. Never in a field, with people spectating. 

Castiel waves Charlie over, the fourth year Gryffindor. She's an amazing Beater, and has proven herself to be one of the best Quidditch players in Hogwarts. Rumor has it she's already been recruited by the Holyhead Harpies. 

She stands next to Castiel, a smile playing on her lips, her red hair unruly in the wind. Her googles look too big for her face, but Dean doesn't let it distract him. Castiel looks all of them over, his look calculating, somewhat hawk-like. “I need someone who can keep up with her,” he says. “Otherwise there's no point in even having a team.”

Charlie snorts. “He's fucking with you,” she counters. 

Castiel glares at her. “I am most definitely not,” he says and walks over to the trunk, which starts shaking uncontrollably. Dean's breath gets stuck in his lungs. “When I call your name, step forward and fly up with Charlie.”

The first girl who gets called has a ponytail and she's shivering. Once she's in the air, Dean notes she's good with a broom, but her reactions are too slow when Castiel releases a both Bludgers. Charlie is a natural, and hits the first one with ease, but the girl has problems even calculating the strength she needs to hit the flying ball of death. 

The boy after her gets called back as soon as he's in the air. Not fast enough.

There's a steady stream afterwards, and only five people are left when Castiel turns to them after yet another failed attempt, and says, “Winchester!”

Dean's mind freezes, but he feels his own body move against his will. His feet feel like two logs, and the broom in his hand is more like dead-weight when he's sitting on it and waiting for Castiel's mark. Dean gets a good grip on his club, breathing in sharply.

He looks over to Sam again, who's standing up, eyes wide and his Ravenclaw scarf ridiculously blue with his cloak.  _Do this for Sam and for Dad_ , Dean thinks.

It all goes in slow motion. Castiel's whistle, then his feet pushing against the ground, and the wind in his hair goes from lightly cold to freezing. He catches a glimpse of red hair to his right, and a Bludger coming his way at top speed. For one single second, Dean's terrified, unable to think of anything substantial to save his own life, but – 

His hand moves as if on its own, and he screams when he hits the Bludger, sending it over to Charlie. The overwhelming feeling of success fills him up, sharpening his senses, and adrenaline flows through his veins making him feel like he's on  _fire_ . Dean doesn't see the ground, or the hoops, or the spectators. He doesn't hear anything but the wind in his ears, and the ruthless sound of a Bludger making its way over to Dean again. Ducking, he evades the ball, then chases it to send it down by hitting as hard as he can toward the ground. Charlie beats the other Bludger toward the hoops. 

Dean doesn't hear the whistle blowing. He's so wrung up in his emotions, that Charlie has to fly next to him and scream into his ear, “Wake up, Winchester!” 

Charlie helps with the Bludgers, and Dean goes down on the grass, his whole body vibrating from the high. He smiles at Castiel, who meets him impassively and calls another name.

Dean stands there for a second, dumbfounded. Everyone but him had gotten some kind of comments from the Captain, but he got nothing. Dean shuffles from one feet to another for a while, nervously glancing at Castiel and then Sam, but nothing comes. 

Castiel ignores him, and Dean's confused. Was he  _that_ bad?

Sam makes his way down from the platform, but Dean's about ready to go. Feeling embarrassed, he turns away from the group and tries to nod Sam to go back to the Castle. Sam furrows his brows and stops him by grabbing his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I failed,” Dean says. His cheeks grow red with anger bubbling in his stomach. “Whatever. Let's just go. I've got Charms homework.”

Sam doesn't let him go. “You were  _perfect_ , Dean. People were cheering you on!”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Didn't you hear? You and Charlie aced it. Never seen anyone play like this in my life.”

Dean looks down at his feet. “Could you save your bullshit for another time? Not really in the mood, dude.”

Sam looks exasperated. Another whistle blows, and the sound pierces through Dean's skin like a knife. “Did Castiel say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Then you didn't fail.”

“He didn't comment _anything_. Didn't say a fucking word.”

“Because you didn't make any mistakes,” Sam says, sighing. “He never compliments anyone, not when he's expecting you to be as good as the whole team.”

Dean licks his lips, gripping his broom tighter. His clothes feel stuffy. Sam has been Castiel's friend for a while now, mainly bonding over their Transfiguration research in the Library, but it's hard to believe a word Sam says just to cheer him up. 

Dean decides to stay just for the fuck of it. 

The try-outs end with a guy falling off his broom, and Castiel asks Charlie and Jo to carry him to Madam Pomfrey. 

People who had the greatest chance of making the team are still waiting for the verdict, and Castiel starts with their new Keeper, who turns out to be Benny Lafitte, a scruffy guy with a broad smile. Dean dreads every word, but it's fairly quick, solely because of Castiel's deadpan voice and no waiting around to announce new team members. Two Chasers join the team, Kevin who Dean rooms with, and Meg, the girl Dean avoids at all costs. Then, Castiel clicks his tongue at the remaining people, doesn't wait for a drum-roll. 

“Dean Winchester,” he calls out. “Welcome to the team.”

There are groans and some cheers from the people around him, but Dean's too startled to care. He feels Sam patting him on the shoulder, congratulating him, but his eyes are locked on to Castiel's. It feels as if he's looking right through him, accessing his deepest thoughts. It's unsettling a little. 

Castiel leads them toward the changing rooms, so Dean quickly tells Sam they're gonna meet up at dinner. Sam bids him goodbye, smiling from ear to ear, which clearly means he's got some plans of his own. Dean wonders what it's going to be like getting a letter back from Dad when he finds out. 

The changing room is nothing special, and they wait around for Charlie and Jo to come back. A lot of great players finished school last year, so Dean's not even surprised to see how Charlie, Jo and Castiel interact. They feel like a family, whereas when Castiel takes their measurements for their new gear, Dean notices a certain tenseness in him. 

“We've got the pitch for Thursdays and Mondays. I expect you to be punctual, attentive, and quick. _Don't_ get into fights with Slytherins, and _do not_ get detentions during practice.”

Meg raises her hand. “What if we do?”

Castiel shoots her a glare. “You can be changed. I will not hesitate.”

She gives him a smile, but Castiel ignores it and goes on. “I'm open to suggestions during strategy-planning, as well as commentary on other team members. If we want to be a team, we have to work as a team. Even though I'm the Captain, we're all on equal footing here.”

Then, it's over. Dean waits for everyone to go before approaching Castiel. 

“Yes?” Castiel asks, taking his gear off in front of Dean. He's delightfully ripped, but Dean tries not to think too much about it. 

“Why didn't you give me shit when I landed? I'm kinda surprised you deemed me suitable for the team.”

Castiel looks at him, again, with his searching eyes. “Sam told me you'd be good,” he says. “It did not affect my judgment, if that's what you're wondering. I took you in solely because of your instincts, and your talent.”

Dean breathes out, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know why I didn't tell you before I went up there, but I'm afraid of heights. I've only played with my Dad and Sam, but it doesn't compare, does it? I feel like I'm going to fuck this up somehow.”

Castiel stays silent for a second, refusing to take his eyes off Dean's. He purses his lips. “I knew already,” he says. “Do not be late to practice.”

Dean takes it as a sign to leave, so he just nods and gets out of the changing room. 

There's a slight jump in his step as he's approaching the Castle, and a smile on his face when he takes a shower before heading down for dinner. 

* * *

Their first game is in two months, so Castiel tortures them every time they have practice. Dean's muscles scream against every move the first time he comes back from the pitch, falling face-down on his bed, and sleeping through the night without getting up. Dean's getting better with heights, especially because of how  _fun_ it is to play with the team. Castiel's been pep-talking him every time he got ready to go up there between the hoops, and he decidedly never looked at the ground. It's been getting better and better with every practice. On top of training, he's getting ready for his O.W.L.s, studying with Kevin every evening they don't have practice. Gradually, they're joined by the whole team, Jo and Charlie, Meg who's in the same year as Dean and Kevin, and of course Benny and Castiel, both sixth years. 

One of these nights, Dean's scribbling down notes for his Potions essay, listening in to conversations around him. They're already becoming good friends, and Dean's happy to find out Jo and Charlie are dating, while Benny holds a hand out for Kevin to pay up. 

Castiel sits next to him, leaning back against the futon behind them. He's looking at Dean's parchment, keen eyes following Dean's hand as he's jotting down the ways he can use Peacock feathers for medicinal potions. 

“Is it alright if I bother you for a moment?” Castiel asks out of nowhere. 

Dean stops writing for a second, and glances at him. For whatever fucking reason, Dean's mind instantly wanders off toward Castiel's undone tie, and the way his shirt hugs Castiel's biceps. “Nah. What's bothering you?”

Castiel leans forward, and points at Dean's notes. “I've never seen you use any books for Potions. I'm beginning to suspect you could brew a perfect Drought of Living Dead without instructions.”

Dean grins at him. “Who says I haven't?”

This earns a solemn smile from Castiel, and it's the first time Dean's seen it. It warms him up much more than the fire. “Sam's told me your mother was a skilled Master.”

“She was,” Dean says, setting his quill down. “We've got an arsenal of Potions books back home, a full library. I'm not allowed to brew any potions by myself anymore, not since Dad caught me attempting a Polyjuice potion in our basement.”

“Is that why you decided to try-out for Quidditch?”

Dean shrugs. “Only way to make my old man happy.”

Castiel hums, unobtrusive.

Dean can't concentrate anymore, so he just leans back and directs his attention to Castiel. “What about you? What's it like to make Seeker your first year?”

Castiel stares at the fire, still smiling. “Bittersweet. I wasn't fond of getting reminded I'm not the first one to do it.”

“Well, Potter made it by accident.”

“It was no accident, Dean,” Castiel muses. “McGonagall blessed me with the full story of him almost smashing into her window when he was helping Professor Longbottom.”

“Ooooh, celebrity gossip. Hit me with some.”

Castiel shoots him a playful look. “Earn it, Winchester. I'm not easily swayed.”

Dean's giddy. “ _You're_ not easily swayed? Buddy, if I tried, I could talk you into  _anything_ .”

“Anything?” Castiel says, almost laughing. 

Dean turns fully to him, listening to the sounds of Benny telling a joke to others, and everyone laughing. “Tell me about the time Harry Potter smashed McGonagall's window.”

“He didn't smash the window.”

“Whatever,” Dean says, with a smile from ear to ear. It's nice, between the two of them. Familiar. “I'm aching to hear you talk about the savior of the wizarding community and how he robbed you of fame and glory.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but the smile doesn't leave. “I'm not telling you anything. Ask McGonagall.”

Dean pouts. “C'mon, man. You're gonna leave an aching man hanging?”

This time, Castiel's look darkens a little. They're facing each other, and the energy between them is buzzing, somewhat elevated, different from the atmosphere out of their bubble. Castiel's voice turns husky, and Dean's heart jumps. “It would be rude to leave you hanging, wouldn't it?”

Dean gulps some air down. It's a dangerous game, but Dean's already noticing Castiel's neck, and his long fingers. His strong legs. “You wanna make me beg?”

They're leaning closer to each other, hands almost touching, knees bumping together. Dean's aware of every cell in his body, heart pumping copious amounts of adrenaline and excitement. Castiel's electric. “Is that what you like, Winchester?”

Before Dean can answer, Kevin butts in by plopping down on the futon. “I've got an idea for our game against Hufflepuff,” he says excitedly.

Dean watches Castiel gradually lean back, eyes distracted when he releases a shaky breath. “Alright, enlighten me, Kevin.”

He's just as affected, Dean realizes. He's had relationships before, knows where to look for signs, thinks about all the other times someone looked at him like this. Castiel Novak, the best Seeker in Hogwarts, wants  _him_ .

Kevin goes on and on about his strategies, but Dean doesn't listen. He watches Castiel, how he responds vaguely pissed, and how Kevin doesn't feel the change in atmosphere. Their bubble burst, but Dean's determined to see that look again. 

* * *

It's Sunday, and Sam drags Dean into one of the empty classrooms, shutting the door behind them. 

“Something's up with you and Cas,” he says, pointing a finger at Dean. 

Dean backs away, holding up both hands, bewildered and amused at his brother. “What's gotten into you, dude? Nothing is going on.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam says, crossing his arms. “He never fucking shuts up about you. I can't concentrate on anything we're doing, he's constantly asking about you. I'm getting tired of him getting silent whenever he hears something about your new potion, or how you're obsessed with Muggle cars.”

“Not my fault he's looking out for his team-mates.”

“I'm friends with Kevin!”

“So?”

“He never asks about Kevin.”

Dean's stomach fills with butterflies, but he remains cool. After a pause, Dean asks, “Has he ever dated before?”

Sam groans loudly, swiping his hair back. He looks ridiculously cute in his cloak and tie. “Not  _you_ too.”

“It's professional curiosity.”

Sam sits down on one of the chairs, glaring at Dean. “You can ask him yourself. Maybe then I can get some peace and quiet knowing my brother made the first move.”

“Whoah, whoah, whoah, who said I'd be making the first move?”

“He's not going to,” Sam answers. “He's convinced you're not into him.”

“I'm into him,” Dean muses. “I mean I've been flirting with him non-stop.”

Sam shuffles against his seat, looking kind of nervous.

“What?” Dean says. “What.”

“He's um. Kind of inexperienced.”

Dean would've spit his drink out if he had a drink. Fucking unbelievable. “No way.”

Sam nods, somewhat thoughtful. “Well he  _had_ some kind of relations with other Gryffindors, but never something extensive and wholesome. The way he describes it, it hasn't been in his interests, until recently.”

“Oh my god, he wants a relationship with me.”

“Do you?”

Dean's silent. 

“Knew it,” Sam says, and stands up. “Do something about it. I want him sane when we're working together.”

* * *

At practice a week before their first match with Hufflepuff, Dean's having trouble concentrating on the game, rather paying attention to everything Castiel's doing. They're playing three against three, with Castiel spectating and yelling at them. Dean's doing his best to throw great punches at the Bludgers, but once or twice he nearly falls from his broom. Charlie threatens to throw her club at him if he doesn't pay attention, but whenever Castiel flies past him, Dean forgets everything in this world. 

Once they're on the ground after practice, Castiel scolds him more than others, but Dean welcomes it, staring directly into Castiel's eyes. Everyone walks into the changing room, and chatter happily, but Dean's silent as he's changing into his school robes. 

Jo and Meg leave early, followed by Benny. Kevin helps Charlie arrange their brooms, and they bid their goodbyes, hurrying toward the Castle for dinner. 

Castiel takes his gear off, and sits on his bench, pulling socks on. Dean watches his muscles move, breath hitching at every strain, and when Castiel looks up, Dean evades his eyes. 

“I don't want to be harsh on you,” Castiel says into the silence. “I can understand you're preoccupied with studying, but I require your full attention at least during practice.”

Dean clears his throat. “I'm not preoccupied.”

“Oh?” Castiel says, and leans back. He's dressing rather slow, but Dean's enjoying every second. 

“I've got some things on my mind.”

“It'd be wonderful if you resolved your issues before the match,” Castiel says, turning to his locker. “I need you in top form.”

Dean thinks. 

Now or never.

“It's you.”

Castiel freezes, holding a shirt in his hand. His back is straight as an arrow. 

“You know it's hard to resolve an issue if the issue isn't responding.”

Castiel turns slightly, not looking at Dean. His mouth is open a little, breath coming in short, cheeks flushed. Dean perks up at the view. “I don't – “

“Look, man, I really like this flirting thing we've got going on, and I wouldn't say no to things moving forward. I'm just asking if you'd be on board.”

Castiel dresses up instead of answering. Then, walks over to Dean, who looks bewildered and confused like a puppy. Dean stands up to level with Castiel, who doesn't look anywhere but at Dean's lips, breathing in slowly and steadily. 

“I am on board,” he says. “If you win me this game.”

Dean's not quick enough to say anything back,when Castiel's lips touch his, the barest of kisses. Barely there, almost nothing. It makes Dean's skin catch fire, and heart hammer like a storm. It ends with Dean leaning in, and finding no one to kiss, because Castiel's left him alone in the changing room.

* * *

Castiel's request helps Dean with focusing, and their last practice goes by without a hitch. Dean refuses to look at Castiel, and Castiel doesn't look at him either, so team-effort is at its maximum. After practice, Charlie grabs his arm and nods toward the platforms. They sit down together, looking at the rest of their team who are going to the changing rooms. 

“What the hell is up with you and Novak?” she asks immediately. 

Dean laughs out loud. “What do you mean? We're good.”

“You haven't talked or looked at each other for days now. Team's getting worried too. You two were inseparable last week, but today I'm seeing two strangers with my own two eyes. I'd ask Castiel, but I know he's going to ignore me. Spill.”

Dean's been avoiding this topic himself, only catching glimpses of everything that could happen when he's slumbering in the morning, Kevin snoring on the other side of the room. 

“You know what? There is something going on between us,” Dean says, smiling now.

“Knew it,” Charlie gasps. 

Dean's already standing up and walking away. 

“Hey!” Charlie gets up, running after him. “I demand details!”

Without answering her, Dean lets out a hearty laugh into the crisp evening of Autumn. 

* * *

The morning of the game, Dean wolfs the breakfast down, earning curious glances from all tables. Castiel's team has far too many newbies to be overlooked, and everyone's interested in their strategy for the day, but Dean and the others try to concentrate on the game instead of chatter. 

When they're finally in the changing room, Dean's pulling on the true Gryffindor gear, all golden and red, complimenting his physique. Taking a peek at Castiel, he looks even more wonderful than usual, and their eyes meet for the first time that week. Castiel gives him a small nod. Dean nods back. 

Once they're on the field, Dean's happy for the sun peeking through the clouds, and the chilly morning wind doesn't bother him that much. He pulls his goggles on, tries to look for Sam but fails, and then the game is on. 

The Hufflepuff team is strong this year, which means Dean looks out for Hufflepuff's Beaters, two very rowdy guys from fifth year. Jamie, who is tall and bulky, grins at him when Dean flies by, taking his position. One look at Charlie, and he knows they're going to coordinate easily. 

For once, he looks down. Doesn't feel a tremor like he used to, and doesn't flinch when Longbottom releases the Bludgers, and the Golden Snitch. The last thing, though, is the Quaffle, which flies in the air, and....

Lands in the hands of Hufflepuff. 

He dives down, avoiding a Bludger sent by Jamie, and then sees Charlie hit the same ball at the other Hufflepuff Beater – Chris. 

Gryffindor scores the first 10 points, Dean listens, and silently cheers for Jo. 

The game picks up from there, points going to Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Bludgers fly in every direction, and Castiel's nowhere to be seen. Dean knows he's fast, and has an eagle-eye for the Snitch, but worries a little. 

Dean doesn't have much time to pay attention to the crowd cheers or boos, not to mention listen to whatever the commentator is spewing out. He flies around the pitch, passing Bludgers to Charlie, helping the Chasers and keeping an eye out for Castiel. Once or twice he sees Castiel fly by in high speed, sometimes followed by Hufflepuff's Seeker, but the game doesn't end just yet. 

Gryffindor's at 100 points, and Hufflepuff has 110. Dean's sweating profusely, but then, it happens. 

He sees a Bludger going straight for Castiel, who doesn't notice the looming threat. He's focused on the glint of gold soaring through the field, and Castiel chases it with top speed, but the Bludger is persistent. 

Dean redirects his broom, heart pumping loud, and wind in his ears. He hears the crowd go wild, and the Bludger is coming closer to Castiel, but Dean's almost there, about to cross paths with Cas and the ball, getting his club ready for impact. 

One single second, Castiel's eyes lock with Dean's, and he's surprised. 

Another second, Dean flies in between Cas and the Bludger, but his usual instincts don't work.

Pain. Then falling. 

Then black.

* * *

When Dean wakes, it's to Madam Pomfrey trying to get his whole team out of her domain, but her efforts are useless. They're gathered round his bed, and when he opens his eyes, they cheer for him, Jo and Benny climbing on top of his bed, congratulating him on not dying. 

Dean's confused, then ecstatic he's alive, and then, his head hurts.

“Give him space,” Castiel's voice booms. Jo says sorry, but doesn't move away when Benny climbs off. 

“You hit the ground pretty hard,” Jo explains. “We were so worried.”

“Did we win?” Dean asks, his mouth cottony, stiff.

He sees Sam, who's sitting with them, a look of worry on his face changing into a smile. “The first thing you ask is if you won,” Sam says. “You're an idiot.”

Dean smiles back at him. “We did, didn't we?”

Charlie nods, pointing at Cas. “When you took the fall form the Bludger, this guy caught the Snitch and dove down to help you. Didn't even wait for the results, went to Madam Pomfrey's with McGonagall straight away.”

Castiel's watching him, expression unreadable. 

Dean's kind of uncomfortable, thinking he's fucked up somehow, and the promise of something more seems like just that; a promise. 

Castiel stays when everyone else leaves, but doesn't move until Sam hugs Dean before going back to his dorm. Dean's mostly nervous, but Castiel's softening features calm him down by a landslide. 

“You won me the game,” Castiel says, smiling a little. Dean loves the smile so much.

“No,” Dean answers. “I sustained a head injury for you.”

“I'm aware,” Castiel says, gesturing at Dean's bed. 

Dean stares at Castiel, thinks about how he'd kiss this guy breathless, and asks, “Am I allowed to kiss you whenever I want?”

Castiel nods. 

“Are we dating?”

Castiel shrugs. “I'd like to take it slow, if it's alright with you. I've never dated anyone for longer than a week.”

Dean sinks into the bed, clearly satisfied. “As slow as you want. Am I allowed to court you into oblivion?”

Castiel gives him an endearing smile, turns a little and then says, “Not if I do it first.”

Dean sighs, content with the outcome. “A challenge, then.”

“You could say that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas.”

Castiel leaves Dean with his thoughts, and all Dean's aware of is that Castiel's cheeks were red. He'd like to kiss them soon. Preferably today. 

He can't get up. Tomorrow's a new day, he thinks, and endures Madam Pomfrey's medicine, falling into a fitful sleep after. 

 

 


End file.
